Fireworks
by bluemoonmaverick
Summary: Just a little PWP for the New Year. One-shot, set early Season 7. Sam and Jack, the way it should have been. :)


Fireworks

**A/N - This story started as a plot bunny, trapped in my computer since this time last year. I stumbled across it a couple of days ago, and in honor of the holiday I thought I'd dust it off and complete it. I had intended to keep things to a nice, safe T rating, but my Muse had other ideas and could not be controlled. I really must speak with her. In the meantime, though, please enjoy. :)**

**Thanks, as always, to MidKnight Rider for the beta, and Happy New Year to all!**

By 23:30 Daniel has passed out on the couch, his glasses askew and a half empty beer bottle still clutched firmly to his chest. At 23:45, Teal'c announces that he intends to drive him home. Jack protests, saying they at least need to stay until midnight, but Teal'c declares that it would be unwise to travel the streets of Colorado Springs much later, so they leave.

Once they are gone, the house grows quiet, and Sam suddenly realizes she and Jack are alone, something she has diligently avoided for the past three years. She looks at her commanding officer, so damn handsome in his fleece and blue jeans, and knows that staying even one minute longer is a dangerous proposition, particularly considering the mild buzz she's been working on all night.

"I should be going too, sir," she says when they make eye contact.

He knows exactly why she wants to leave, but that doesn't stop him from trying to convince her to stay. "Come on, Carter. It's ten minutes 'til the ball drops."

She ducks her head and nods and smiles. Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe she's just dreading the thought of spending yet another holiday alone, but for whatever reason she acquiesces. "Okay."

They stand in the middle of his living room watching Dick Clark and sipping on their beers until the countdown begins. They count down the last of the numbers out loud with the television until they get to the Happy New Year and the streamers fall on Times Square for the third time that night, since they're on Mountain Time. Somewhere in the distance, someone is shooting off fireworks.

Sam sets down her beer. "I really should be going now, sir."

He wishes she wouldn't, but he's in no position to stop her. He shrugs. "If you must, Carter."

He follows her to the door where she turns to face him one last time before heading out into the cold. "Happy New Year, sir," she says, and she leans toward him to give him a quick kiss on the lips.

Except that she finds that she is reluctant to pull away, so she lingers there a moment, and before she realizes what she's done, she's pressed her lips more fully to his. He's momentarily frozen with shock until it dawns on him that the woman of his dreams (literally) is kissing him, really kissing him. He drops his beer and immediately brings both hands up to her face so he can kiss her back. Properly.

She really hadn't planned for this to happen, but the moment he responds to her, every nerve ending in her body begins to tingle, and when his tongue passes her lips, those same nerves suddenly erupt in flame. For seven years she's lived with repressed desire, but now that she's had a taste of heaven, she can no longer deny that there is only one thing in the entire world she wants - him.

He pulls back for just a minute but his hands don't leave her face. "So...not going home?" She gives him a small smile and shakes her head, but he has to be sure she knows what she's doing. After all this time, he can hardly believe what they've done. What they're about to do. "This is happening, then?"

She nods and meets his eyes, determination in her gaze. "Yes, sir."

And that's all the confirmation he needs. He brings his lips crashing down on hers and lets his hands wander to places on her body he's only fantasized about. Things start to get really heated, and it occurs to him that he does not want this to go down in his foyer. "Bedroom," he mumbles, and they awkwardly make their way down the hallway, while simultaneously trying to kiss and remove each other's clothes.

At one point, he's so distracted, he steers them into the wall, making the framed pictures go all wonky. One possibly falls to the ground and shatters, but he doesn't know for sure because his body is completely pressed to hers and she is moving intimately against him while gently sucking at the pulse point on his neck. His eyes momentarily roll to the back of his head. He can't remember anything ever feeling so good.

Finally, they make it to the bedroom, and they've both lost their shirts. His hands are roaming over the smooth expanse of her back, his fingers finally landing on the clasp of her bra. He hesitates once again. "Still with me here, Carter?" he pants in her ear, though he doesn't know what he'll do if she changes her mind.

But he has nothing to worry about. Her fingers are already working the buttons of his jeans, a task made more difficult by the increasing amount of pressure on the fabric. "Yes, sir," she practically purrs, as she strokes him firmly through his pants.

He groans, and her bra falls to the floor, leaving her perfectly rounded breasts exposed. He wastes no time taking one into his mouth, which draws an appreciative moan from her. And then they're on the bed, struggling to free themselves of the last of their clothing until they're completely naked, skin on skin, and he doesn't think he's been this desperate to be inside of a woman since he was a teenager.

Still, he hesitates for a minute because he really is a gentleman and he's determined not to move too fast, before she's ready. But she knows what he's thinking and she's one step ahead of him as usual. "Sir," she breathes in his ear, her voice full of need.

Strangely enough it doesn't occur to either of them that the situation might dictate using something other than their military form of address.

He enters her then, and she can't help the gasp that escapes as he takes her completely. After all, he's more than adequately endowed and it's been a few years since she's enjoyed the pleasure of anything that doesn't run on batteries.

She hooks her legs over his and he shifts upwards slightly and then oh-my-god-he's-right-where-he-needs-to-be, and she's seeing stars with every thrust. They move like that for a while, and then he's whispering in her ear and she thinks he's telling her to come. She doesn't need any encouragement there, though, because with the next thrust she's gone, and she's apparently taken him with her.

As she's coming down from her high, she hears another round of fireworks going off outside, and she can't help but think that's nothing compared to what just happened in his bedroom. The cliché makes her giggle.

He's still breathing hard, but he manages to lift himself up on his elbows to look down into her face. "Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for, Carter."

That makes her laugh even harder, so he tilts his head at her quizzically and starts to worry that maybe she's had more to drink than he first thought. But she's calming down now, and her eyes are twinkling. "Fireworks," she says by way of explanation.

In that weird way they have of understanding each other without words, or at least without many, he gets it. "Ah," he replies and answers her grin with one of his own.

He leans down and kisses her softly on the lips, before rolling over and pulling her to him. She snuggles into his side and begins to draw lazy patterns on his chest. Completely sated, she feels the need for sleep tugging at her. "So what now?" she asks.

He kisses the top of her head. "Now we sleep, and we worry about the rest of world tomorrow."

"'Kay," she replies dreamily. For some reason, she's completely satisfied with that response.

"Happy New Year, Carter," he whispers in her hair.

"Happy New Year, Sir," she replies.

Another round of fireworks goes off somewhere in the distance.

The End


End file.
